And so, today is a day off. In reality I have a million things to sort and organise and looking at my calendar is making my head spin realising that a ‘4’ hour shift is no longer 5 hours of my time…but 7 hours of it. Truth is I’m struggling to hold onto joy just now. Watching my facebook, instagram and twitter was tough yesterday as my friends got married in Northern Ireland…loads of our mutual friend joining in the celebrations. I simply could not be there. I couldn’t afford to lose any more work after surf camp, and ended up with a last minute job interview to go – the night before I finished work and found by arms covered with random scaly spots that we were initially concerned might be the start of chicken pox (thankfully it’s not – phew!).
It is easy to believe that there’s a destination to make. If I get my flat sorted. If I could get a salaried post that pays an actual living wage. If the circumstances change and I could just sell my flat. If I could be part of a community where we all live and support and love God and others together. If I could afford to have a car again.
Last night, exhausted and lying on my bed as a friend was texting to ask how the day had gone, I just couldn’t face telling the whole truth. I feel like reply I have is grouchy, negative, pathetic, moany…so where are the positives?
What is it that makes me happy?
Yep. My friends still tease me about how happy books will make me. And nothing gives me more pleasure than reading stories in as many silly voices as possible to anyone who will listen.
I love, love, love going to the theatre. And it’s been way too long since my last London theatre trip with my blog turned in-real-life friends, Ruth and Rebecca. The next best thing is listening to cast recordings and singing/dancing along in the kitchen or car. Less dancing happens in the car mind you.
And if I can be outside with a book or walking barefoot in the sand and splashing in the sea – all the better.
Actually. Pretty much any yummy baked goods will make me happy.
I don’t have the talent to be a Banksy, but I appreciate others’ talent. And I love seeing fun, inspiring and thought provoking street art.
Especially when I get to snuggle them. But even when I see them bouncing and hopping around grassland areas in Edinburgh I can’t help but declare “THERE’S A BUNNY!!”
Is there anything better than a rainbow of sharpie markers?
What are the little things that make you happy?